


NEEDS A NAME

by thoughtsdemise



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Beginning Relationship to Established Relationship, Fuzzy Fluffers, Humor, Little Surprise, M/M, Mech/Mech, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:54:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How to give it a name?  Rung can’t figure it out, and Ratchet is just no help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	NEEDS A NAME

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: http://writing-prompts-list.tumblr.com/post/82551666819/7-days-of-writing-pt-3-for-ships  
> 1\. Nuzzle  
> 2\. Present  
> 3\. Sob  
> 4\. Finger-plating  
> 5\. Flutter  
> 6\. Tremble  
> 7\. Shower

-Nuzzle & Flutter-

Rung adjusts his spectacles as he is pressed forward against the bar top.  He ex-vents and sets his glass down.  He pats the arm that tightens around him as he tries to turn around and help the drunk mech off his person and back to their own quarters.  He releases a wordless protest when he is yanked back into the broad chest of Ratchet.

“N-n-now just a mom…”

He stops short as Ratchet nuzzles his nasal ridge against sensitive neck cables.  Rung mutes his vocalizer on a soft noise.  He palms his mouth before laying a hand against the medic’s arm.  His systems warm with embarrassment as Ratchet begins to whisper promises.  And when a blue digit flicks playfully over a broadcasting antennae, Rung wiggles and presses fully into that encompassing embrace.

Surprisingly it is Swerve’s gawking that triggers the psychiatrist to unwind the snookered medic from his frame.  Rung keeps one delicate hand tucked into the leading edge of Ratchet’s chest plate as he slips off the stool and under the medic’s arm.  He starts doggedly forward trying very hard to ignore the loudness with which Swerve announces to anyone who would listen that the Lost Light’s resident quack was finally gonna get laid.  “What did that even mean?”  Rung huffs and makes a mental note to schedule more office visits with Swerve to work on that incessant need of his to blurt out anything to anyone who would listen.  “It’ll end up getting him killed one day,” he mutters.

“Yeah, baby.  Wanna have it rough?”  Ratchet pats along Rung’s abdominal plating thinking the muttering was about him.

Rung makes a distressed noise as both he and Ratchet collide with a wall after the shift in weight from Ratchet’s petting.  They slide down the wall.  The psychiatrist lays hands against a glass chest.  His spark flutters as he bites his lip.

Ratchet smiles up at him.  “Rung.”  He cups the smaller face and let’s his touch linger over those curves.  He removes Rungs specs and tugs gently to pull the other’s face closer to his.  He rumbles his engine in a churring timber.  Rung shifts atop the medic and leans in closer for that kiss Ratchet seems to want.

“Snnkkk.”

“Wha….”

In disbelief Rung stares at the slumbering mech beneath him.  He bites at his lip before sighing.  He tries to push himself up getting ready to contact Ultra Magnus when a red arm wraps about his waist and pulls him firmly against the rumbling chest.  Ratchet nuzzles the top of Rung’s helm before turning over and pressing the smaller mech into the wall and the floor partially under his bulk.  The medic continues to murmur happily even at the stuttered protests of the Lost Light’s psychiatrist.

From the shadows, Rewind clicks off his camera and enters his own quarters with a beaming happiness in his EM field.  Chromedome smiles at his partner.  “Something good happen tonight at your data-novel club,” he asks as he makes the berth.

“You could say that.”  Rewind pounces and wraps Chromedome’s leg in a tender hug.  The surgeon laughs but continues with his chore even if it was a futile effort with what seemed to be on Rewind’s processor.

-Tremble & Sob-

Ratchet rubs at the back of his helm as he eyes the orange-brown paint on one forearm.  He huffs a sigh fingering an audio.  A cleared vent has him turning to Firstaide.  And with his fuzzy processor, Ratchet cannot tell if his apprentice is amused, annoyed, or exasperated.  The mechling must have picked that up from Pharma at some point because did it sure feel familiar to Ratchet.  Aide hands his mentor a data pad before turning back to sign out from his shift.  Well really Ratchet’s shift as the CMO had been several hours late.

Given that he had survived a foray down onto a rather nasty planet, he felt justified in getting shit-faced, something he had not done in eons.  The “you’re old enough to know better, Ratchet!” is clear in the lines of Aide’s stiff frame.  The CMO strokes his chin with a wide grin,  _ definitely picked up that attitude strut from Pharma. _

“Ratchet!”

“Wha!”

Ratchet lands heavily against the exam table as Ambulon cuddles into his back with happy gasping sobs.  Having endured this several times since he had adopted Delphi’s ward manager and medic, Ratchet pulls the small data screen from Ambulon’s hand and looks at the latest gossip feeds.  He turns off his audios as the ward manager begins to pratter on about this and that.

Ratchet barely bats an eye as he catches sight of the headline.  It wasn’t the first time the trio of mini-bots had connected his name with another mech on board the ship.  What was surprising, however, was the video file attached beneath the headline.  He can only stare as he nuzzles against the frame in his arms.

“That certainly explains the dirty look I got from Pipes.”  He peels Ambulon from his back as he moves to go about his shift and tosses the data screen onto a table.

-Present & Finger-plating-

Rung smiles when he hears the hiss of tired struts and cables relaxing.  He rubs the natural oil over the medic’s hands and enjoys the gentle buzz in the EM field that lays over his.  He tickles over a few of the knuckle joints in a light tease before letting the entire hand dip into the small bowl.  He watches the bubbles rise within the oil with each flex of those red fingers and his own.  He tamps down on the shiver that wants to run through him as a warm huff of air touches his neck from where Ratchet had pressed his helm against the smaller shoulder.

The red hand turns over in the oil to grasp Rung’s and stills its movements.  The smaller mech smiles with a soft exasperated sigh.  “You know we’re never going to get those sensors recalibrated ifyou  continue to do this.”  He strokes his thumb meaningfully against Ratchet’s but doesn’t make an attempt to withdraw from the hold.

“Yeah.”

Ratchet’s other hand scratches at his broad chest.  A bit of fresh red paint streaks against the glass surface of the plate.  A lingering kiss follows another warm vent against Rung’s neck.

Rung wraps his free hand under Ratchet’s and lifts them from the bowl of oil.  He cannot stop the pleased smile from crinkling lines at the edge of his optics as he watches the entwined fingers glisten in the light of their shared quarters.  He even chuckles at Ratchet’s telling shiver.  He pulls a red digit from his lips.  The chemo-receptors on his glossa enjoying the dark flavor of the oil as he licked it from finger-plating.

“Perfect present, Rodimus,” Rung murmurs as he gives into Ratchet’s gentle prodding and returns the medic’s kiss.  Fingers slide over each other as they tighten and each mech enjoys the warm rumble from his partner at the sensation.

-Shower-

Megatron stares at the little bitlet that smiles hugely up at him from his cupped hands.  An uncertain expression crosses his face.  His optics flick to his co-captain who is making a cooing idiot of himself at the sparkling.  The small clicks and whirs turn into cheeping giggles as Rodimus tickles the red helm.  The ex-Decipticon clears his intakes as he looks out over the impromptu party that had been thrown together by Swerve and Skids on the Lost Light’s bridge.  The bitlet’s carrier eyes him expectantly.

“Welcome, little one, to the Lost Light,” he gruffs.  The sparkling jumps and begins to cry, clicking for one of its creators.  Megatron hops in place once as a wheeled ped strikes his knee joint in just the right way.  He narrows his focus on the carrier that swoops in to save the bitlet.  “May your journey be long and mighty,” he grits out.

Rodimus stands next to Ratchet and Rung as they proudly show off the now happy again little byte.  He slumps in a chair when the focus turns away from him to the guest of honor.  He scratches at his nose as he wonders again why he had aligned himself with these simpering fools.  He looks up absently and raises an eye ridge at the sweet smile that peeks at him from over the red shoulder of the sparkling’s carrier.  Arrangements needed to be made to transfer Ratchet and Rung back to Cybertron as soon as possible.  “Before my spark becomes even more choked with this stupidity,” he mutters and adds aloud, “change course for Cybertron.”

Everyone stares at him.  “We cannot trust that the family unit will make it back safely.”  He stares at a vid-screen trying to ignore the looks.  It was going to one long ride back.  He can only sigh.


End file.
